My "Star Trek" Novel: S179276SP

As the Captain entered the bridge, his stiff body language and sour mouth communicated to all hands that he was not to be bothered with trifles; but what Lt. Langley had wasn't a trifle. "Captain. Message coming in from Romulan space. Code Two." Harrison paused over the shoulder of Ensign Ciam, to whom he was about to give the coordinates for Halkan space. "From Romulan space? Code two?" "Yes, sir." "But that's been out of use for..." "One hundred two years, five months," Mr. B replied. The Captain nodded. "Let's hear it." "In your ready room, sir?" Lt. Langley asked. "Here." "Transmitting." Captain Harrison squinted upwards as static filled the bridge. "Isolate the static," he commanded. "Isolating," Lt. Langley responded. Without the static, a series of blips were heard; several crewmembers nodded their heads slightly as they tried to make sense of the rhythm. "It seems to be repeating itself," Mr. B mentioned. "Could it be another code?" Captain Harrison asked. "It is a code!" Lt. Langley shouted triumphantly. She blanched when everyone looked her way, and added, more softly, "I mean it is a code. It's an old Earth code for pronunciation symbols and numbers." "Can you tell us what it means?" "Yes." She closed her eyes. "O...S...S..." "An S.O.S.?" Mr. B asked. "Garbled?" Ensign Ciam wondered. Mr. B shrugged. "More to the point," Ensign Siler began, "who on Romulus would be sending an old-fashioned Earth code for--" "There's more," Lt. Langley stated firmly. "Numbers. Nine...two...seven..." She shook her head. "I should wait until it begins to repeat itself again. Wait a minute. Here. "S...O...S..." Mr. B and Captain Harrison exchanged raised-eyebrow glances. "S...One...Seven...Nine...Two...Seven...Six," Lt. Langley read, "...S...P...S...O...S...S...One...Seven... It's repeating now." "Is it an S.O.S.?" Mr. B asked. "If it is," Captain Harrison wondered aloud, "what might the other numbers be?" "Other numbers and letters," Ensign Siler corrected. "And why, as Ensign Siler was saying, would anyone..." Harrison's thought hung in the air for several seconds before he pulled it down himself. "An I.D. of some kind?" "Maybe," Ensign Ciam nodded. The Captain turned to his science officer. "Mr. Abelsaan." "Already on it, Captain. Cross-referencing non-S.O.S. numbers and letters in the message with all known Romulan and Federation identifications." He stared at his monitor and sighed deeply. "Let's see. In the country of Hawaii on Earth it is the driver's license number of one Israel Kamakawiwo'ole, while in Washington D.C., it is the patent number for Zamweewee--a kind of child's toy." Mr. B brightened. "I used to have a Zamweewee." Will Abelsaan continued. "It is also the serial number for a 20th century weapon known as a revolver. In Arizona, it is the registration number of a right-wing organization called the Diamondheads, in England--" "How many Earth references are there for this number, Mr. Abelsaan?" "Two hundred thirteen, Sir." "I see. Romulan references?" "Checking." Another deep sigh. "None, sir." "What about Federation identification codes that cross reference correctly?" Mr. Abelsaan's hands flew over the consul. "One." "Yes?" "S-one-seven-nine-two-seven-six-S-P is the Starfleet service number for Ambassador..." His eyes widened and he turned to his Captain. "...Spock." "My God," Lt. Langley stated. "You're kidding," Ensign Ciam said. "Spock?" Mr. B wondered aloud. "What would Ambassador Spock be doing on Romulus?" He motioned with his hand towards the consul. "Let's hear some of those other Earth references, Lieutenant." But Captain Harrison was already out of his seat and giving orders. "Lieutenant Langley. Send that message along to Star Fleet command. I'll be in my ready room! Mr. B, you have the--" The doors to his ready room swished behind him before he could finish his sentence.